


You Were Only Waiting

by deadforacentury



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadforacentury/pseuds/deadforacentury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things break. Things are unreliable. Things fall apart. Blaine is a loner and is hated by everyone. Kurt is popular and hates Blaine. They are partnered up together for their social studies assignment. Blaine is broken and just wants to be left alone. Can Kurt fix him? AU fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take These Broken Wings

Things break. Things are unreliable. Things fall apart. These words were just about the only thing believed. It was like an unsaid motto that I lived by, because the words all rang true. These words were the only things I could really trust in, the only things that I could always count on.

From a very young age, I learned that things do break, things are unreliable, things do fall apart, and most of the time you can't put them back together. I learned never to hope, never to look forward to anything and never to wish for anything to happen, because I knew that none of it would ever happen.

While most children grew up believing in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny, I would look upon these children with a smug look on my face, just waiting until they learned that their beloved fictitious characters weren't actually real. I was just waiting until their souls were crushed by the ugly truth.

I know what you are thinking, I must have been a pretty horrible kid waiting on my fellow classmates to be let down by something that they believed in, but maybe I just wanted them to feel what I had been feeling for a very long. Maybe I just wanted them to feel let down, make them feel like they had something precious taken away from them, so that they felt like they had absolutely nothing.

So I went through most of my childhood waiting for something bad to happen, which it usually did.

I had no hopes, kept suppressing whatever dreams I had to the darkest corners of my mind, so that I could never be let down. If I never had anything then I could never lose it, could I?

Whatever I was living wasn't a life.

A life without hopes and dreams couldn't be called a life at all. I was living some sort of robot life, never trusting anyone or anything, because I knew that sooner or later, they would leave.

Well that was before Kurt Hummel showed me different.

"Now class, today I will be assigning each of you this year's first assignment. It'll be on a country of your own choice and must be an oral presentation," Ms. Fisher said as a groan echoed its way through the classroom. It was only the third week of school and we were already getting our first pieces of assignments. Almost everyone was still in holiday mode and very reluctant to leave it.

"Since I am nice, I am allowing you to work in partners, but there's a catch, I get to choose those partners for you." Another groan went through the class, this time I joined in.

Partners meant two people working together, something that I wasn't the greatest at doing. I couldn't rely on someone else to get me a good mark. I couldn't trust anyone to keep their part of the deal, when they had so many better things to do than work on a stupid assignment and actually get it done. They didn't have to live with the circumstances that I did.

"I know, I know, but I am a teacher remember. I'm going to ask each of you to come to the front of the room and pick out a name from this box and read it out loud. What you get is what you get, so no complaining and definitely no swapping." She held out a bright yellow box, with each of our names on a piece of paper inside it.

"First up, Santana." Santana walked up and picked a name out of the box. "Quinn," she read out loud, as she smiled at her new assignment partner.

"Next, Blaine." Everyone's head turned towards me.

I swear that I could feel each and everyone's eyes boring holes in the back of my head, as I walked up to the front.

"I swear on my life that if I get stuck with Anderson, I'm going to jump out the window," Puck whispered to the person next to him. I looked up at Ms. Fisher, to see if she too had heard him, but her facial expressions had not altered.

When you don't fit in, you sort of become superhuman. You hear a whisper about a mile away and sometimes you don't even have to hear the whispers, to know that it's about you.

I dipped my hand into the box, praying that somehow I would pull out a blank piece of paper without a name on it; although I knew that if for some reason I did pull out a blank paper I'd still have to pick out papers until I got a name.

My fingers curled around one folded piece of paper and I drew it out. I unfolded it, as the class watched me and I bet that each of them were wishing the same thing. They were all wishing they weren't unlucky enough to get stuck with me for the assignment.

"Kurt," I said quietly to myself, as I saw the name on the paper.


	2. All Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt Hummel is really miserable with Blaine Anderson being is social studies partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and enjoy :)

"Kurt," I said quietly to myself, as I saw the name on the paper.

"Read it out loud dumbass!" someone shouted from the back of the classroom.

"K-Kurt," I said loudly, so that everyone else could hear. I was with the same person who had chucked my lunch out the school bus window on the first day of high school and who had tripped me over so many times that I had lost count. He who had slammed my head into locker doors, walls, tables,

poles and God knows what else, so that I had bruises everywhere. I was stuck with the same

guy who had hated my guts since the fifth grade.

"Hahaha! Hummel got stuck. Sucked in Hummel! Hummel got stuck with Anderson. Hummel got stuck with Anderson!" Puck began to sing loudly, as the classroom erupted in laughter. Kurt had begun to whack his head on his table rhythmically.

"Settle down class," Ms. Fisher said, but when the class remained loud, she whacked her metal ruler

across her desk loudly. It was only then that the class grew silent.

"Ms. Fisher, please make him pick again. I don't want to be Anderson's partner," Kurt said, pleading with the teacher.

"Now Mr. Hummel, what did I say before? What you get is what you get. No picking again."

"But Ms. Fisher please, I'll do anything. I'll even do the whole assignment by myself. All of it."

"No."

"How about I do the assignment by myself and I'll do it twice, with no extra time? I'll do the oral

twice as well."

"No and no! Mr. Hummel, you are going to be working on this assignment with Mr. Anderson and

there will be no complaining about it."

"But…but…"

"No! One more 'but' and you'll be in after school detention for the rest of the year. Now, Blaine would you please take your things and go and sit next to Kurt."

I picked up my books and went to sit on the empty seat next to Kurt, who had pushed himself up against the wall so that there was maximum space between the two of us.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While everyone else picked out their partner, they each gave Kurt a sympathetic smile.

"Okay, so let's get this straight. Just because we work together it doesn't mean that we're like friends or anything like that. We're not allowed to be seen in public together. We don't talk to each other anywhere but here in class and when we're working on the assignment. I want to get this finished as quickly as possible. I have better things to do than waste my time with you," Kurt said, reading the criteria sheet.

"Fine," I replied, obliging to his rules.

"So what country are we doing?"

"How about France?"

"Yeah, whatever. We have a month to finish. Man, I'm stuck with you for a month?"

"I told you, you should've jumped out the window. That's what I would've done," Puck said, putting his unwanted opinion into everything.

"We're on the first floor. What difference would it have made?"

"Maybe we should push Anderson out the window. Make the world a better place."

I started to write some research down in my book and tried to ignore what Kurt and Puck were talking about. I had always wondered why people enjoyed it when someone else suffered at their hand. Maybe it was just easier to pretend to hate someone even more than you hated yourself. Maybe cruelty was much more fun when you're in a group, all banded together against the common enemy. Even though that common enemy hasn't done anything wrong.

"I can't believe I got stuck with Blaine-fucking-Anderson. Out of all the people in the stupid class, I just had to get stuck with him. What have I done to deserve this?" I heard Kurt say to one of his million friends.

"Man that is seriously the worst fucking luck. I'm just happy it's not me. But seriously man, I'd hate to be you," Puck said, as he washed his hands at the sink.


	3. Knowing You

Here is the new chapter! I hope you enjoy!!  
Please review!!

In the boy’s bathroom, there is this empty cubicle, which no one uses, because there is nothing there to use. I hang out in there, because it’s the only place that no one goes near. Plus no  
one ever knows that I’m in there. It’s probably not the most hygienic place to eat in, but I cleaned it up a bit and the janitor, who felt sorry for me, gave me a lock, so that no one can get in. And I know that whatever’s out there, can hurt me more than whatever’s in here.

“Do you think that whatever he has is contagious?” Kurt asked Puck curiously.

“I don’t think so. I think it’s more like a state-of-mind thing, but just in case, I wouldn’t get too close to him,” Puck said.

“I have to go over his house tomorrow so, you know, we can get all the work done quickly. I would’ve asked him to come over my house, but like you said, I don’t want to get too close to him,” Kurt stated.

“Remember; don’t take anything he offers you. You don’t know what the hell it could be, and remember, never leave any hair or nails lying around. He could be using it for voodoo or something,” Puck warned.

“Anderson’s a loser, not a witch,” stated Kurt.

“He’s a freak! You don’t know what he could be up to,” Puck said.

I heard someone opening their school bag and taking something out of it, I pushed the cubicle  
door open just a fraction, to see what they were doing. Puck had taken out a huge black permanent marker, the ones that were banned from most schools, but people brought anyway. Puck began to draw on the “Wall of Shame”, you know, one of those walls that are in every school bathroom, that have trash written about other people on it. I swear on my life that I practically had stuff written about me on two-thirds of that wall. I saw Kurt reading what Puck had written and then burst into laughter. 

“That is so true!” he said, giving Puck a high five, still laughing. I didn’t have to read the words that were written, to know that they were about me. After they had left the bathroom, I left my cubicle to check out what they had written. I had to be fast, so that no one came in while I was looking. As I moved closer to the wall, I caught sight of my name in big black bold writing and I knew that my previous assumptions were correct. In bold writing for all of those who used the boys toilets to see, was written 

“Blaine Anderson is a witch. I always knew that he was transsexual.”

Now I knew why schools had banned permanent markers.  
*****  
Out of all the subjects that they teach in the school curriculum, I think the worst one is physical education, but the funny thing is that, I'm the only guy in the whole school who hates it. Everyone else loves it with a passion, probably because it’s the only class where you can hit me with a piece of sporting equipment and actually get away with it. Coach McGuire, my sports teacher, always turned a blind eye whenever I got hurt. I had once been tackled in a game of football, but the thing was that I had never even got to touch the ball once in the whole entire game. I ended up with a busted lip and a black eye. Coach McGuire did absolutely nothing about it, just said something about manning up. It was as if, he too had a personal vendetta against me.

Another horrible thing about sports was that we had to get changed in front of everyone else. I would always get changed five minutes before and after everyone else. Then I didn’t have to face the embarrassment of everyone else seeing me getting dressed.

“I know that you’re getting all these boring assignments in every other class,” Coach McGuire began, as a murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. “So I have decided to start today’s lesson off with some team dodge ball!”  
A cheer went through the class and I silently groaned to myself. Team dodge ball meant getting into teams and guess who always gets picked last?

“Kurt, Mike, you can be captains. Pick away.”

“I pick Puck,” Kurt said, predictably picking his best friend.

“Finn,” Mike picked.

“Sam,” Kurt called out.

“Jake,” Mike chose.

And soon it was just me and Artie.

“I pick Artie,” Mike said, happy that he didn’t have to have me on his team.

“Oh man. I don’t want Anderson. He’s my partner in social studies. Am I like the unluckiest person in the universe?” Kurt groaned.

“Kurt, it is so not your day,” Puck said, sympathizing with his friend.

“Coach, does he have to play? He doesn’t even do anything. He’s going to make us lose so badly. He’s bad luck. Make him sit out. He’ll probably like it,” Kurt whined to the Coach.

“Kurt, I know that Blaine might not be the greatest player, but we all have to be around people we don’t like and that is life. There is nothing we can do about it,” Coach McGuire announced.

“But Coach, we don’t want him on our team,” Kurt whined again.

“Kurt…”

“We don’t want you on our team Anderson. No one wants you. You’re so Goddamn useless.” Kurt  
turned to face me and looked me straight in the eyes, as he said this. And it was probably the last comment that hurt the most, because maybe I believed that he was right. Maybe the whole lot of them had been right all along. As soon as I got home I chucked my bag in my room. There was not time for homework or food; I had to get all the chores on “the list” finished. The list was a piece of paper with all the chores I had to finish before my dad got home. Most of the time, it was at least two pages long, apparently there were so many things that needed to be done in my stupid small cramped house. But if I was lucky, sometimes I only had half a page of things to do. After I was finished with the list, I had to cookdinner, clean up my room, finish my homework and have a shower. And I only had four hours to  
finish all of it.

I found the list where I knew my dad would leave it, on the fridge so I couldn’t even lie about not finding it. Luckily, this time the list wasn’t very long, which meant that I could even squeeze in a bit of television before my dad came home. When I had finished mopping the floor, washed the clothes, cleaned up all the rooms, fixed the clock in the living room, swept the front porch, taken down all the noticeable cobwebs and polished the coffee table, I began to make dinner.

It was never anything fancy, because I knew that my dad never appreciated anything I cooked. I had once made one of those three course meals, because it was my dad’s birthday and I thought that it would be nice if I did something special for him. The funny thing was that he never even came home that night, so I was left waiting for him until midnight. It was only then that I gave up and just went to bed. After chucking out my creation of course.

When I had finished making dinner, I went to clean my room. I knew that it had to be clean enough for Kurt, when he came over. I didn’t want him to tell his little friends and the rest of my school that I lived in a trash can, like they all assumed I did. Cleaning my room didn’t take very long, because I just had to put all my things away and I didn’t have to make my bed, because I could do that the next morning.

Just as I was finishing cleaning up my room, the phone rang. This doesn’t usually happen very often, since no one would want to talk to me and all of my dad’s friends knew that he was at work  
at this time of the day. Unless something serious happened, it was probably someone trying to sell me some fancy vacation that could never afford.

“Hello?” I asked nervously into the receiver, ready to apologise that I couldn’t buy their vacation.

“Anderson?” I instantly recognized Kurt’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“So Anderson, what’s your address?” Kurt asked.

“What for?” I was straining to hear if anyone else was in the background, but I couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t planning to egg my house.

“What do you think dumbass? I’m coming over, that’s why. How do you expect my mum’s going to know where to pick me up from your house when she doesn’t have the address?”

“Right, it’s 66 Ialty Road. It’s sort of near that new shopping complex.”

“God! Why did you have to pick my name out of that box? Puck and I were going to go and watch a movie, but no, you just had to come along and ruin that, didn’t you? Why do you have to ruin everything?”

“Well, I had stuff planned for tomorrow too, so stop complaining,” I lied and I knew that he knew that I was lying.

“What stuff? Cutting your grandma’s toenails? Bet that would’ve been great fun!”

“Just to let you know, I would rather eat my grandma’s toenails than work with you, so how about we just get it over and done with?”

“Well fuck you too,” Kurt said before he hung up.

“Sorry,” I say to the dial tone.


	4. Knowing Me

I remember when I was little, I thought that having showers were pointless, because I would always get dirty straight afterwards. Now a day, whenever I had a shower, I felt as if I was shedding some sort of skin that was heavy with all the things that people said about me, all those hurtful words that I received on a daily basis. You'd probably think that I'd be used to all the words, because my ears had been hearing them for so long, but that was far from the truth.

It was as if I was wearing a suit of armor and every time someone said something; my suit of armor would get a dent, as if I was being hit with some sort of sword. In the shower, I'm all alone. I don't have to worry about anything. I'm at total peace. When I'm in the shower I can imagine that I'm someone else, that's not me. Because becoming someone else is the best hope I have. "Blaine, where the fuck are you?" I heard my dad shouting, making his usual entrance and greeting as he came home.

"I'm doing my homework," I shouted back, putting the photograph that I had been holding, back beneath my pillow.

"Where the hell is the food?"

"On the table, where it is every night," I said this last bit under my breath. I got off my bed and went to the kitchen, so that I was there whenever he needed anything.

"This ain't food, this is shit. I'm not eating any of it." He chucked the food that he had on his plate straight into the bin and dumped the dirty plate in the sink.

"It was the only ingredients that were in the house. I couldn't find anything else," I said, beginning to wash up the dishes.

"Well, you could have gone to the goddamn shops, couldn't you? Is that so fucking hard for you? You have a pair of legs, so try to use them. You really are fucking useless, aren't you?"

"But I didn't have any money, so how –"

"Is that an excuse? Is that a motherfucking excuse?" he grabbed my ear, yanking my head close to his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I began to mouth this phrase over and over again.

"What type of motherfucking trash are you? I come home after a hard day at work and all I asked for was a decent cooked meal and all I get is a pile of crap to eat. I work all day long to get us things we need and you do nothing!" He pushed me hard against the edge of the sink, so that my lower back whacked painfully on the metal, right smack bang on the bruise I had gotten earlier today, when Kurt kicked me in the back with his shoe.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, more to myself than to my dad.

"Well, maybe sometimes you should try to fucking think. What the fuck do I send you to school for, huh? To fucking learn and all you're doing is being a dumb shit, who can't fucking think for yourself. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry."

"You pathetic motherfucker." He pushed me again into the edge of the sink and this time I cried out in pain.

"Oh did that hurt little Blaine? Can't you fucking take the pain? What are you?" He pushed me again, but this time it was harder and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out in pain.

"You son of a bitch." He held back his hand, but I wasn't quick enough to duck out of the way. He slapped me hard across the face, before leaving the kitchen. There probably was a bright red handprint across my face, but I knew that I had gotten off lightly. Things could have gotten a whole lot worse.

I gathered all the dirty dished and began to wash them; they had to be washed some time.

I remember I used to stand in front of the mirror, just staring at myself. I was trying to see what everyone else saw, trying to see what made me so different form everyone else. When I was looking into that mirror, I was trying to figure out why my dad and all the kids at school hated me so much, what it was that made them want to hurt me every chance they got. At first, I couldn't see anything; I was just staring at the reflection of myself. But then I started to look, I mean, really look. And then I saw it, I saw what it was that made everyone hate me, what it was that made them want to hurt me. And maybe it was then that I hated myself as much as everyone else did.

By the next morning, I could barely lie on my back and when I checked what my bruise looked like, it had doubled in size. I wished that Kurt would somehow be sick, so that he didn't have to come over my house. God knows what would happen if my dad found out. My head would be on the chopping block, literally. Sometimes I am late for the school bus that comes down my street. When this happens, I usually have to walk all the way to school, which makes me even later; because I know that my dad would never drive me there.

I remember one time I had arrived at the bus stop just as the bus was leaving. Plenty of people saw me and could have told the driver to stop for me, but they all just chose not to, because I guess it was pretty funny for them to see me shouting and jumping about, trying to make the driver wait for me. But the weird thing was that, by the amount of jumping and shouting I was doing, it was a surprise that the bus driver didn't hear me himself.

It's like I can scream.

But no one can hear me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again, I'm so sorry if I was not able to change some things in this story. I have thought of this story back to days when my OTPs were still together (now they're not) so yeah, I'm sorry. Enjoy this chapter tho
> 
> Please review!

"So, I found some information on France last night," I said, passing the information over to Kurt, who merely glanced at it, before throwing it back at me.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm bored." Ms. Fisher had arranged the classroom so that we were sitting away from everyone else. She knew just how distracted Kurt could get if he was sitting anywhere near Puck.

"Are you actually going to do something? Or are you just going to sit there, hoping that the work will get done by itself?" I had no idea where my extra confidence had come from. I usually just sat there and minded my own business, hoping that no one would say anything to me, but I felt as if Kurt was less threatening when he was away from his peers.

"What are you? My mum? Jeez, I didn't know you were practicing to be one someday."

"I thought you wanted to get this assignment over and down with? If you're not going to do anything how can we get it finished?"

"God, Anderson! What are you, like PMSing or something? Fine, I'll go and find some more information or something." I knew that this was just another excuse for him to go and talk to his friends, but at least he was away from me and letting me actually get on with my own work.

"Blaine, can I talk to you for a second?" Ms. Fisher asked, not waiting for an answer, but sitting down on Kurt's seat anyway.

"Ms. Fisher?"

"Blaine, I know that you're a very bright boy and I know that you could do this whole assignment by yourself, but I wanted you to get to know other people. Make friends. I'm not trying to punish you or anything like that by doing this."

"I know," I quietly replied.

"And I know that Kurt probably wouldn't be your first choice, but we don't always get what we want."

"Yes Ms. Fisher," I agreed.

"Now, has Kurt or anyone else said or done anything to you?" I glanced over at Kurt and hesitated, before answering her question.

"No," I lied; because I knew that telling a teacher never solved the problem. All they ever do was make everything a whole lot worse.

"Are you sure?" I knew that Ms. Fisher wasn't convinced.

"Positive," I stated.

"Okay then. Now if you ever need to talk to someone, you know I'll be here, okay?" Ms. Fisher kindly asked me.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Now back to work. Where is Kurt?" I nodded in the general direction of Kurt. She got up and made him come back and work with me.

"What the fuck did you tell her?" Kurt asked, as soon Ms. Fisher was out of earshot.

"N-nothing," I said truthfully, but the way I said it made sound as if I was lying.

"You better not be lying, Anderson. Or I'll fucking kill you, okay?" Kurt threatened.

"I didn't tell her anything!"

"Good!" said Kurt while still not fully believing me.

Every year Santana, a girl in our class, has a party at her house. Her parents are super rich and she was a stuck up spoiled brat, who got everything that she wanted. For her party, Santana invites everyone from our grade. Everyone that is, except for me. She usually hands out the invitations at lunch, so that I wouldn't know, but it's kind of obvious.

This year, instead of giving them out at lunch, she gave them out in class.

"Kurt, here you go. One for you," she said, handing Kurt a white envelope with his name on it.

"Your party is here already?"

"It isn't on until next weekend, but I want to make sure that everyone in the year level is there, so keep that weekend free, okay?"

"Will do. Wait, you said everyone in the whole grade. What about him?" Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kurt pointing to me, but even if I didn't see him, I would still know that he was asking about me.

"I don't invite 'no bodies', Kurt. Who would?"

And it's funny how people can talk about me, even though I can hear them perfectly well.

It's like I can disappear. Even though I am standing right there.

"Have fun at Anderson's house, Kurt," Puck said, waving through his car window.

"Yeah Kurt, enjoy yourself!" Jake said from beside Puck.

They were apparently going to some movie and Kurt had to miss out.

"Fuck you two!" Kurt threw a piece of scrunched up paper through the bus window. He had sat two seats behind me. His reputation would be ruined if everyone knew that he was even associating with me. But by now, I was used to the cold shoulder. I stood up as we got near our stop and I waited until Kurt did the same. The plan was that he would walk a few meters behind me, until we were physically in my house. I thought that this plan was pretty pointless because my stop was the last and I was the only one who got off it.

As the bus came to a stop, I got off and started walking in the direction of my house. I made sure that Kurt was actually following me, by glancing back every few minutes.

"We're here Kurt," I called out as I walked to my front door. He jogged to my side, as I was trying to open the lock with my keys.

"Come on Anderson. Hurry up!" Kurt kept glancing backwards.

"No one from school lives anywhere near me, if you're worried." I finally got the door open and Kurt stepped inside, even before I could.

"So, do we get started? I have to call my mum as soon as we're finished." Kurt shuffled from one foot to the other awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'll show you my room. Come on."

After taking him to my room, I told him to wait there while I went to get us something to eat. Going through my cupboard, I noticed that there was an extra note on the fridge beside "the list". I didn't bother reading it, because it was probably just an extra chore or something like that.

"Here." I handed Kurt his drink and put down the bowl of chips on my bedside table.

"So, we've got information on the population and the basic information like the capital city of France is Paris, which is the city of love. What else do we need?" Kurt sipped his drink as he spoke.

"Um, we need stuff about the culture. Like the food and clothes. And we need information about famous sites and the geography, also some phrases that might be helpful if we ever go there."

"Is that it?" Kurt questioned me.

"Yep."

"Okay, since you know about French, you can do the vocab stuff and the famous sites. And I'll do the geography and culture." Kurt bluntly stated.

"Okay, sure. I have some books." I went over to my bookshelf and grabbed all the books, which had anything to do with France.

"Here," I said, handing some books over to him.

"Thanks man."

And it's weird just how much someone could change when they weren't around anyone who expected anything from them.

"Blaine, where the fuck are you?" I froze instantly. I glanced at my clock. My dad wasn't supposed to be back for hours.

"Shit," I said, panicking. I wasn't supposed to have anyone over.

"Who the hell was that?" Kurt asked.

"My dad."

"Your dad? Why are you freaking out then? I mean, it's just your dad, isn't it?"

"Shit. My dad's not like everyone else's dad. You aren't supposed to be here. He's going to kill me. You have to hide. I don't know what to do, Kurt." I started to frantically look around for places where he could hide, but then I realized that I had to hide too, because I hadn't done

anything that was on the list.

"Relax Anderson. Stop panicking." Kurt warned me.

"But-"

"Relax. We're doing school work. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" Kurt asked me.

"When I call you, you fucking answer!" I heard my dad calling from near my room.

"He's going to kill me," I said, glancing up at Kurt's face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, looking at Kurt from the doorway.

"D-dad, this is Kurt. We're partners on our social studies project."

"Hi Mr. Anderson. We were just working on our project."

"Heh, finally you're actually going to get a good mark on something. I thought you were totally useless at everything." My dad simply stated.

"Yes Dad."

"I'll leave you to it then." I heard him leave the house again, but I wasn't fooled by his act. He would get me back sometime.

"What does he mean finally getting a good mark? You get A's in everything. Has he even seen your report card?" Kurt asked me.

All I did was shrug. What Kurt didn't know was that the last time I had shown my dad my report card, he had ripped the whole thing up. I had gotten a 'C' for my gym mark. After Kurt had left, my dad still hadn't come home. God knows where he could be. I knew he would get me back; the act was only for when Kurt was around. I knew that as soon as he was back at home, he would get his revenge. I made sure that I locked my bedroom door that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! Thank you! Have a good day


End file.
